A song in praise of Frenchman Bay. Thank you, Simone Keane! Frenchman Bay (Words by Giles Watson. Music by Simone Keane.) The sand, like a sickle moon, shimmers in the light. Plain as quartz, it snares the sun arching into white – reflected radiance so profound it echoes out into the Sound and dazzles my delight. A stingray like a shadow moves among the webs of green and oystercatchers dabble in the glistered water-sheen. The Elvie, with its buried prow knows no blood or blubber now, nor grieves for what has been: she looks out on the endless swell, timbers deep in sand and dreams of being afloat again, her back turned to the land, where footprints mark the passing ways of modern times and ancient days and lovers hand-in-hand. And where the peppermints hang low, the dreaming eyes, I swear, are watching from the fragrant leaves, their faces lined with care, between the trunks of fissured bark – watching from the ancient dark as we pass unaware. I see the ghosts of sailing ships anchored in the bay and hear the echoes of a bell when mist enshrouds the day. I think I hear the sailors sing, drawing water from the spring, their memories washed away. https://youtube/watch?v=IWSJvf3N4wk
Posted on: Fri, 16 Jan 2015 23:49:50 +0000
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